Coldness
by Simple.White.Lie
Summary: After the death of Obi Wan his mind was full, but his voice was silent. But they always say actions speak louder than words. Anakin/Padme comfort fic.


Disclaimer: Property of George Lucas, but mine to play with!

Warning: Un-beta'd.

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><p>No one stopped him from leaving. He flew out of the temple like a man on a mission, but he had no destination in mind. Padmé would still be standing next to the other Senators and Jedi, and Asoka would be told to let him be, that he would be fine.<p>

But there was no more 'fine'. Obi Wan was dead.

The man had been his best friend, his father figure. He had always likened their relationship to that of brothers. He had never felt the need to hold back in front of Obi Wan like he did with the other Masters. He had never felt mistrusted by the older man, never felt misguided or dangerous.

The gentle teaching had been just what he had needed after leaving his Mother.

He found himself in the apartment that he shared with Padmé, his fists clenched in the raw pain and anger he felt for losing his constant mentor. Gentle hands invade the coldness that has corrupted his mind, soft lips press against his neck and warm breath raced across his ear.

"Come to bed." He ignored her. He couldn't look at her beautiful face, her loving features with the rage that had taken residence in his heart. Something so pure, so warm shouldn't be tainted. She became more insistent and he felt her move from behind him to sit on his lap.

"Don't shut me out." She said, the pain in her voice moved him to look at her. Her glassy eyes were red and puffy from the tears but moreover they were in agony. "You aren't the only one who loved him." He didn't move, except to watch her face.

She sighed in exasperation. "So it's going to be like that?" She snapped, and kissed him angrily. Her lips were unforgiving and he welcomed the sensation. He pushed her into the couch and they fought for control of the kiss. She pawed at his tunic until she reached skin, her nails drawing blood from his back. He hissed at the pain but it didn't slow his mouth as he moved to her neck, ripping the dress apart, he heard the buttons bouncing off the tiles as they flew in every direction.

Her focus on removing his clothes was temporarily forgotten when his mouth found her breast and eagerly feasted on the tender skin. This was not going to be slow gentle lovemaking that he loved. She cried out as his teeth lashed at her, the blond head moving from her breast to her center. Her warm wet need was pounding and she knew he wasn't far behind.

He surprised her when he scooped her up and raced to the bedroom, she was secretly grateful for the room they had been in wasn't very private. Any of her ladies could have walked in, not that it'd be the first time, but naked Anakin Skywalker was something she was very protective of. He was _her _husband.

He had always been her rock, this unshakable force that cared for her like no other in the universe, this time she wanted to be his comfort, her fiery spirit tempered by his blazing soul. While she was a volcano, only bursting at sporadic intervals, he was a supernova, thousands of explosions all occurring at once and yet all of them completely stable.

He shed the Jedi robe and tunic and was left bare in the setting sun. She caught a glimpse of his eyes and all previous thought went out the window. "You aren't going to lose me Anakin." She said, her voice husky with need. The words were apparently exactly what he needed to hear as they fell back onto the bed.

His mouth became more gentle as he kissed the pale column of her neck, her legs spreading beneath him and wrapping around his back. She felt his need, both emotionally by the torment that was so evident on his face, and physically by the pressure against her stomach. She dug her heels in, knowing what she needed didn't matter, they would have time after for soft and gentle.

He looked at her deeply as he pushed in with one thrust. He left her no time to recover and slammed into her like a man possessed, his eyes grew wild and his face contorted like he was being tortured.

The sensation was overwhelming, he was all around her, his mouth on her neck, his hands at her breast, the pain from him filling her so completely pushed her further to the edge. She felt the warmth growing, shooting down her spine. The pain and pleasure in an beautiful dance as he took her leg and pushed it up to his shoulder.

She felt dizzy, as if she was standing on a ledge looking down, then she felt the falling. The scream that came from her mouth was piercing and his bellow that followed was equally heart wrenching. His arms gave out and he fell to her side, his heavy body half pinning her. He buried his head in her neck murmuring quiet apologies for hurting her. The beads of sweat that had accumulated on his neck mingled with her own, the heady scent of sex was thick in the air. Her one hand was gently stroking his hair while the other was holding him close. If all she could do for him was hold him. Then that's what she would do.

They laid in the bed till long after the sun set, his head cradled to her breast, comforting him, wishing there was something she could say. She was relieved when he finally said, "He was the closest thing I had to family."

She remained silent, merely kissed his forehead and listened, glad he was finally talking "Other than you, I have no one else in the universe. I loved him like a brother, like a father and now he's gone." His voice was hoarse and she watched his mechanical hand clench. "At the funeral all I kept thinking was 'All I have left now is her'. All I have left now is you Angel."

She held him tight, "I'm not going anywhere," she murmured, "I'll always be here." To emphasize her point she gave him a quick squeeze around the shoulders, "I'm here, I'm right here." And finally, he started to cry.

The night grew older as they huddled together, Padmé attempting to be as supportive as possible. Sometimes they made love, the return of the slow, gentle pace that made her feel cherished. Sometimes they talked, but never about the issue at hand. And sometimes they said nothing and let the silence shudder at the intimacy of the moment.

"What are you going to do?" She asked quietly as they watched the Moon make its final descent and the Sun peak over the horizon. He shook his head and closed his eyes. He was leaning against the headboard, the blankets pooled around his narrow hips. "Talk to me, please. Say anything." She encouraged looking up at his eyes that were distant and glassy.

She sat up and he pulled her to his chest tightly. "What is there not to do." He finally said after a long pause. "I want to find the sniper and wring his neck with my bare hands and slice him so fine that a butcher wouldn't be able to tell the difference. I want to run away, I want to stay here with you for the rest of my life to make sure nothing happens to you.

"Nothing's going to happen to me."

"That's what I thought about Obi Wan, and still feel. It's like-"

"What?"

"There was a moment that I was second guessing-." He shuddered at the dark memory. "I've watched him get blown off a roof before and fall much farther, only to get up and smirk at me."

"He was shot Anakin." Padmé said, "don't go there, it'll only get more painful." Anakin scowled. His mind knew that his mentor, his brother, his best friend was gone. But his heart wouldn't accept it, their connection was too strong. After more than ten years he felt the man was still out there, somewhere.

Padmé laid back down and pulled him down with her. She closed her eyes, her face nuzzled the soft skin of his shoulder, tucking her head under his chin. Anakin stroked her hair and sighed, not prepared for the day ahead, but he was sure, as long as he had Padmé's love, he would live on. The day he lost her was surely the day he would die.


End file.
